


before i learned civility

by radialarch



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fealty, M/M, Pining, Roleswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:20:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29546439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radialarch/pseuds/radialarch
Summary: "You would deny me this," Felix says. "Your prince.""You are my prince," Dimitri agrees. Felix can see the pink tip of his tongue, the sweat-sheen at his temple. He flinches when Felix twists his wrist at the end of a downstroke, wringing a groan from his throat. "That's why."
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 9
Kudos: 84





	before i learned civility

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sumaru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumaru/gifts).



> okay. so. @plaemon did this [gorgeous roleswap art](https://twitter.com/plaemon/status/1362129581826793472) for dimilix week, and then i remembered that i owed an auction fic from several million years ago, and this is the result. extreme thanks for your patience, lin ♥ dimitri has a lovely mouth.

"Will that be all?" Dimitri says. He's still kneeling. Light puffs of air hit the back of Felix's hand when he speaks.

The ache at Felix's groin is a familiar thing. "It's only sundown," he remarks. "Did you have some other appointment?"

There's a reddish cast over Dimitri's cheeks when Felix finally turns to him. "No," he says. "I only thought you might want some privacy."

What privacy? Dimitri might have been meant to serve Glenn, but it was he and Felix who grew up together. There's nothing about Felix that Dimitri doesn't know, nothing that Felix has been able to hide. "I don't," Felix says shortly. He does not take his hand away.

Dimitri lowers his eyes. "All right," he says. Now the light of the setting sun catches on his eyelashes, delicate. He's being careful. He's always so careful with Felix now, and it makes Felix grit his teeth. 

"I'll need you to dress me before tomorrow's meeting," Felix says. As if Dimitri does not know; as if Dimitri had not suggested the meeting in the first place. Before Glenn died, Felix had other attendants to dress him. He sent them away when he got Dimitri. Inherited him from the dead, like some trinket. 

"Of course," Dimitri says. Felix's knuckles are damp with Dimitri's breath, and it makes Felix want terrible things. Dimitri's teeth pressed into his flesh, Dimitri's fingers around his wrists. Dimitri is not always tame. Felix has seen him snap steel, drive the point of a lance through bone. The Blaiddyds serve as the sword of Fraldarius, and Felix knows well that the best weapons are dangerous.

He wants Dimitri to look at him.

"I saw you training with a new sword this afternoon," he remarks idly. "It handled well."

The faintest hint of reproach: "You were to be discussing the tax on fish and game this afternoon."

"I discussed it," Felix says. "Then the windbags from Kleiman and Gideon discussed it, which was not worth listening to. Do you know what you look like when you wield a sword?"

"My form is not as developed as with the lance." Dimitri says, rueful. "Of course, the title has been symbolic for some time."

"No," Felix says. "You look like you're mine."

A beat. "Your Highness," says Dimitri. Clears his throat. His eyes are darker from this angle, not so blue. He shifts on his knees, and threads of the rug catch on the metal of his greaves.

"Stay," Felix says, and Dimitri stills. Felix turns his hand in Dimitri's grasp so he can touch. Put his thumb on Dimitri's damp lower lip. A sound comes out from Dimitri's mouth when he strokes, helpless, low. 

"Good," Felix says. It's not soft. He can't be, not when there's something vicious coiled in his belly. Dimitri swallows anyway. The bob of his throat is very clear.

"I—" Dimitri says against Felix's thumb. "My liege."

"Stay," Felix says again. Drawing his hand up takes effort. Dimitri makes a small, hurt noise when Felix trails his fingers across Dimitri's cheekbone, and it makes Felix's mouth water, aching to bite.

Felix is moving. Dimitri might be a statue. It's only Felix's wet, harsh breaths in his ear when he unlaces his trousers, when he pulls himself free.

A hiss escapes between Felix's teeth when he wraps his fingers around his cock. The back of his hand is throbbing, like Dimitri's lips left a mark. He thumbs over the head and Dimitri watches with fever-bright eyes.

"You won't touch me," Felix says. Not the way Felix wants; not the way he needs. "So I suppose I'll have to do it myself."

"I cannot." Dimitri's words come out like gravel. "You must understand."

Felix is stroking up his shaft—slowly, trying to stave off the orgasm he knows is close. He has imagined this before, but the reality of Dimitri is a shock. The strands of his hair sticking to his forehead, the tinge of pink over his nose. Dimitri shifts again, and Felix sees with a savage pleasure that he, too, is hard.

"You would deny me this," Felix says. "Your prince."

"You are my prince," Dimitri agrees. Felix can see the pink tip of his tongue, the sweat-sheen at his temple. He flinches when Felix twists his wrist at the end of a downstroke, wringing a groan from his throat. "That's why."

"I could order you," Felix says. His forearm is sticking to the skin of his belly, dragging over the folds of his shirt. He's burning up, and Dimitri isn't stopping him. Is watching Felix smear slick droplets down the heated shaft of his cock, drag his hand back up like the slowest form of torture.

Dimitri says, "You could."

Felix doesn't. Dimitri is so close. Felix could reach out and put his fingers in Dimitri's hair, pull him in. Dimitri's mouth is half-open; he's breathing hard. That mouth had just been on Felix's hand. Now Felix is using it to— he could—

When Felix comes it's with a low, guttural sound. "Fuck," he says, and doesn't recognize himself. He can't catch his breath. His hand is sticky with his spend, sliding down his wrist. It's going to drip onto his trousers. He holds it out.

"Your Highness," Dimitri says.

"Clean it."

For one dizzying breath they look at each other. This is what Felix wants. This is what Dimitri reduces him to, panting and hungry still. Dimitri has seen all of him, his beating heart and his basest desires. "Please."

Dimitri's tongue is wet, warm. He starts at the wrist. Long, slow laps, moving along the base of Felix's palm, then higher, to curl between his fingers. The thumb he saves for last, wrapping his lips around the base and sucking gently. It's thorough. His seed must be long gone, and yet Dimitri still lets him stroke over the velvet of his tongue.

The sun's long gone when Dimitri takes his mouth away. He should be getting up now: to light the candles, and undress Felix, and put him to bed. But he hasn't, yet. He doesn't. His hands are fists on his thighs and his back is a tense, tight line.

Felix smiles. It's sharp. "You deserve a reward now, I think." He slides one foot off the divan, and it lands gently between Dimitri's knees. He doesn't say anything more.

Dimitri says: "Felix."


End file.
